


you're here (again)

by choimiah



Category: GOT7
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-22
Updated: 2016-01-22
Packaged: 2018-05-15 12:57:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5786080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/choimiah/pseuds/choimiah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Youngjae is an RN with a jackass friend (but, not really) and an enthusiastic "patient".</p>
            </blockquote>





	you're here (again)

Fours years earning his BSN and another two spent as an intern equal six years of Youngjae’s life that he can’t get back. Under normal circumstance he would never think of trying to because he adores his nursing position and, although money wasn’t his motivation at first, he makes enough to afford his own apartment and eat food that won’t clog his arteries at least six nights a week. If he has to say so himself, things are going pretty well overall.

There’s only one thorn in his rose that Youngjae wouldn’t mind plucking for good. He comes in the form of a six-foot man who has way too many “accidents” for such a capable looking person. Truthfully, the first time he came, Youngjae didn’t mind in the slightest. For starters, he’s handsome; he had auburn hair that was shaved on the sides with the rest gelled to the back his first couple visits. The younger could appreciate his bright smile opposed to the strange looks he was used to receiving when patients discovered they would be cared for by a male nurse. Elders liked to tell him to his face that he wasn’t right in the head for going to school for this and that he should’ve opted for being a doctor instead while he was in med school, or an accountant, like their grandsons and nephews.

Youngjae has heard most of that from his parents before they eventually came around. It doesn’t phase him now as much as it used to.

Still, it was a nice change. He apparently fell off his bike somehow; the abrasion was minor and Youngjae patched it up quickly before sending the smiling man on his way. Easy.

Then he started coming in once a month, twice a month, three times and so on until half a year passed. Youngjae grew increasingly aggravated at seeing the same smiling face so early in the afternoon every week. If the man is as clumsy as he claims to be, why was he always conveniently injured during Youngjae’s shift? According the other nurses they’ve never seen the man besides when he was patiently waiting in a non-emergency room. It became clear that the man was up to something.

Youngjae isn’t amused when he steps into the room and the man is sitting there again. He pulls a pair of disposable gloves out of a box and slips them on his fingers. He ignores the report clipped to the board in a wire basket attached to the door. He already knows it says something along the lines of ‘29 y/o male, insert some lame excuse to be at the doctor’s office at flipping one in the afternoon, jaebum, im’.

“Hello to you, too.” Jaebum laughs when Youngjae shoves a freezing hand unannounced down the back of his shirt. Youngjae smirks a little when he navigates the stethoscope around his lower back and the man flinches. He’s not that sorry.

“You never ask my name, Youngjae-ssi.” Jaebum tries twisting around but Youngjae holds the man in place so they can finish this as quickly as possible.

“I already know it, Jaebum-ssi.” Youngjae maneuvers the tool some. “Take a deep breath.”

Jaebum complies, breathing in deep and exhaling promptly. “But, you never ask me directly. You know, you could just call me ‘hyung’.”

“I could call you a lot of things but I’d probably get fired.” Youngjae switches the stethoscope for an otoscope and does his routine swiftly. Jaebum doesn’t speak again until Youngjae has a tiny pile of first aid accessories on the sheet next to him.

“I just got this one.” Jaebum points to a black anchor at the very tip of his cut. “My dad works on a fish boat,” he searches for Youngjae’s eyes and successfully locks gazes after some reluctance from the younger, “and I always thought my dad was the coolest so I got this one.”

Youngjae just nods and averts his eyes, applying the alcohol and pausing when Jaebum hisses under his breath.

“Keep going.”

The younger grips the man’s bicep. His cheeks warm instantly. He prepares himself to combat whatever sly thing he imagines Jaebum wanting to say. They finish how they always do; Youngjae bandages Jaebum’s cut and the man thanks him with a broad smile. Not a thing feels different until Youngjae discovers a slip of paper with a phone number on it left behind on the counter. It isn’t too hard to guess whose it is. Youngjae feels like a hypocrite when he stuffs it in his back pocket instead of directly in the trash, where it definitely belongs.

 

“Hey, who’s ‘tattoo guy’?” Hanbin asks from his lying position on Youngjae’s couch, sitting up a little. “He sounds incredibly sexy. Why haven’t I met him?”

Youngjae focuses on not burning his rice. If it weren’t for the open layout of his apartment and the fact that the kitchen overlooks the living room he might’ve been able to just ignore his friend. He has half a mind to say ‘yeah, he’s kinda sexy’ until the other half stops him.

“He’s that guy I told you about,” Youngjae says. The stretch of silence that accompanies his response sets Youngjae on edge. If Hanbin weren’t Hanbin Youngjae might guess that the other simply let it go. But, it is exactly because Hanbin is Hanbin that he turns off the gas burner, places a lid over the pot with the rice, and wanders out into the living room to stare over Hanbin’s shoulder. He can’t wrench the phone out of Hanbin’s fingers fast enough.

“What the hell are you doing?” Youngjae reaches over his friend’s shoulder, only to have his phone held further away from him so he has to resort to climbing over the back of the couch and wrestling Hanbin.

“Getting you laid.” Hanbin presses the blue send button to Youngjae’s horror and finally allows the latter to rip the phone back, staring in disbelief at the lone bubble hovering in space that reads ‘hey, hot stuff. you up for dinner at my place tmrw night?’

Youngjae is almost as angry as he is appalled at the message. What’s worse is that his messenger informs him that Jaebum has read the text and the phone bounces out of his hand like lightning.

“You’re welcom-ahhh!”

Youngjae secures a grip on Hanbin’s forearm and drags him to the door.

“Your ass can get drunk somewhere else.” Youngjae shoves him out the door and into the hallway.

“But you have that dark stuff that’s been aging for, like, centuries.” Hanbin tries to pry his way past Youngjae but the man knows he can easily take him as he’s already a bit tipsy.

“Get your bum ass off my doormat and get wasted in a shitty bar somewhere, hot stuff.”

“But, I-”

Youngjae slams the door so hard the wood quivers.

 

He tries not to get distracted by the fuschia tiger roaring at him when he tells Jaebum to take a deep breath. It’s too damn hard. Every time the man flexes his broad muscle the younger can’t help thinking hot stuff and how he’s going to survive doing this any longer when the man thinks he’s some creep that gets off on playing hard to get and has a fetish with 80’s pet names.

Youngjae signs off on the report and tosses his gloves.

“You’re good to go, Jaebum-ssi. Why don’t you try staying on your motorcycle next time around, hm?”

“Wait.”

Youngjae sighs. He’s been preparing himself for this. He turns on his heels and faces the man, white bandage swathed around his right bicep and making him seem irrationally vulnerable and cute.

“What?”

“How about, instead of your place, we go to mine?” Jaebum asks with a conservative smile that feels out of place on his happy face. This takes Youngjae by surprise. He was expecting something childishly flirtatious. Jaebum’s sincere brown eyes and adorable half smile weigh incredibly heavy on Youngjae’s chest. His knees feel weak. He should say no. Why is his backbone always on hiatus when he actually needs it? Say no, dummy.

“Just,” Youngjae clears his throat and bites his lip nervously, “just this once.”

“Cool.” Jaebum hops up and sends Youngjae a wink on his way out. “Thanks, hot stuff.”

He regrets it already.

 

The sun is just setting when Youngjae buries himself in his coat and walks out of the hospital’s exit to wait near the ambulance drop-off. His breath materializes when he curses it for being so cold, mocking him. A growl rips through the winter street. Chrome wheels, a cherry red body and black leather seats grumble to a stop right in front of him. Youngjae plays off the chill that races down his spine as an effect of the temperature and he climbs on behind Jaebum.

“Here you go.” Jaebum passes him a silver helmet. Youngjae fits it over his head and fastens the straps. His hands automatically hover behind the man’s waist before his brain steps in, causing him to hesitate.

“Hold on tight.” Jaebum’s gloved hands take hold of Youngjae’s bare ones and wrap them loosely around the man’s waist. He’s leaving the rest up to Youngjae. The younger swallows his pride and presses closer, laying his cheek against the man’s strong back.

The engine revs.

They’re off into the night. Cold air clogs everywhere it possibly can but the adrenaline rushing straight through his veins keeps Youngjae from feeling it too much. His cheek is most likely stuck to the man’s back. He tries to care. It’s hard. One thought that crawls to the front of his mind despite his pummeling of it with a steel bat is Hanbin’s dumb self going ‘i told you so. look at you being a little whore, jae’. He battles thoughts like these all the way to Jaebum’s…highrise apartment.

The snort that escapes him is one of disbelief and shock.

“You thought I was a beach bum, right?” The man chuckles. “It’s okay. Everyone does.”

“What do you even do?” Youngjae asks after he’s properly dismounted. Jaebum chucks the keys to man dressed in a suit with white gloves. He slips him a twenty and the man nods politely.

“I’m a social worker by day and an art magazine editor by midnight well into the wee hours of the morning.”

They walk into the well lit and toasty lobby where an a woman with white hair greets Jaebum politely. The man returns it with just as much sunshine as the younger is used to. They step into the elevator. Jaebum presses the highest floor. The floors tick by leisurely while some tasteful music plays softly in the background.

“Tell your friend I said thanks,” Jaebum says. Youngjae stares at the man. The auburn has mostly faded and the sides are growing back evenly. His fringe lays neatly just above his eyes. He’s overwhelmingly handsome. Youngjae needs to think straight.

“What do you mean?”

“I’m gonna take a wild guess and say it wasn’t you who sent me that text,” Jaebum says. “Correct me if I’m wrong.”

“You’re right, though.”

“I had a feeling.”

The elevator dings but the doors don’t open. Jaebum fishes a key from his jacket pocket and manually unlocks it. The door slides open to reveal an entire penthouse. Youngjae chokes silently on his words. He turns to Jaebum looking guilty and embarrassed.

“I thought you slept under a bridge.”

Jaebum laughs loudly. “I get some of that as well.” He steps off of the elevator. Youngjae follows him.

“It’s just that you look…like a…”

“Vagabond,” Jaebum finishes with a gracious smile. “I get it, Youngjae. I really do. No worries. Care to sit a spell?”

Youngjae nods, lips tugging upward somewhat against his will. He takes a seat on the white leather futon. His eyes find the glass wall that displays half of Seoul. All sparkles mixed within an indigo sea of geometric shadows and dusky sabres.

“Refreshments?” Jaebum asks from the kitchen. Youngjae twists around on the futon and nods again. Jaebum gives him the universal ‘ok’ sign and disappears behind the other half of the wall that isn’t open. A fridge hums to life and glasses clank.

Youngjae is so distracted by the gorgeous view in front of his eyes that he starts when Jaebum sits next to him. But, he might’ve done that regardless of his distraction because the man makes himself cozy right next to Youngjae, smiling innocently as he intrudes in on the younger’s personal bubble. He accepts the red wine, sipping tentatively. His eyes roam curiously around the space. White and black minimalism tells Youngjae that Jaebum really is into art. After some silent observation he spots a magazine on the sanded oak table just above his knees that looks a little more worn than the others. Sticky notes poke out from between the pages.

“Is this it?” He sets down the glass and picks up with magazine. It has INK written at the top in boldface lettering. A mic is underneath a single light. That’s the cover.

“The theme for this month is hidden talent,” Jaebum explains, scooting impossibly close and pointing as he speaks. “We had the readers send in all sorts of things for people who they thought were hidden gems and collaged them. We’re still pilfering through some stuff but it’s set to publish in a few weeks, on the first of next month.”

“What kind of things do you publish?” Youngjae leafs through the pages.

“All kinds. We like to scope out what is most unappreciated and paint it into its rightful setting.”

Youngjae’s heart thumps more quickly against his chest at the content grin cracking over Jaebum’s lips, eyes squinting pleasantly. He had somehow missed when the man changed out of his thick, grey turtleneck and into plain cotton tee. His half-sleeve is striking underneath the dim lighting. Youngjae takes another whig of his wine before setting it down again.

He allows the delightful warmth to spread.

“Don’t you worry how you’re going to look when you’re eighty?” Youngjae asks behind hooded eyes.

“You are the thousandth person to ask me that same question.” Jaebum shakes his head and leans back, folding his arms behind his head. “I’m going to look like a kick ass grandpa. My grandkids can take me to show and tell and I’ll explain how I got all these. That’s how I’m going to spend my eighties.”

“Will you tell me how you got them?”

“Depends.” Jaebum tastes the word with a contemplative gaze. “Will you spend the night?”

“Depends.” Youngjae echoes with a matching expression. “Can we drink more wine?”

“Sure.”

Youngjae smiles, amused. “Well, then sure, hyung.”


End file.
